


3 Scenes

by King_Latifah



Category: Zootopia
Genre: Homelessness, Other, i did it ALL for the banter, slice-of-life, yes the singer is Mrs. Otterton I don't know her actual canonical name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Latifah/pseuds/King_Latifah
Summary: "The cloud glows from behind with the collective light of the Zootopian skyscrapers, a caste so distant from theirs that it seems like another world entirely. The effect is oddly beautiful. The cloud of cigarette smoke that suffocates Nick when he opens the door is not."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oddly enough, The Pervert Criminal Trio isn't a very endearing squad name. ((Also are we as a culture just gonna forget that Emmett Otterton was into nude yoga or))

\- - - 

**1**

There is a heavy fog obscuring the street on which Finnick lives (parks his van), and it makes the neon signs in Chinese that adorn the buildings seem as though they are floating. The cloud glows from behind with the collective light of the Zootopian skyscrapers, a caste so distant from theirs that it seems like another world entirely. The effect is oddly beautiful. 

The cloud of cigarette smoke that suffocates Nick when he opens the door is not. 

"My God," he comments to Finnick, coughing into his fist. "How have you not died of lung cancer yet?" 

"Chain-smokin's good for the lungs. Get in." 

"Actually, it's really not." 

"Quit talkin' science on me and get in." 

Nick sighs, reluctantly climbs in, and makes himself comfortable on the undersized recliner in the back corner. On the stolen portable TV attached to the back of the drivers' seat, a children's movie is playing. 

"Where'd you get this one?" Nick wonders aloud. He reaches over to grab a beer in the corner and touches a face where the cooler used to be.

"The hell?" The face asks sleepily. 

"Duke's livin' with me now," Finnick chuckles from his place in front. "I give him a place to sleep and beat his meat, he gives me discounts on his movies." 

"Ah." Nick sighs mock-indulgently. "How romantic." 

Finnick erupts into sudden laughter. Duke is less than thrilled.

"Ye know what?" He growls, not unkindly, and shoves Nick weakly. 

"What?" Nick teases, pushing back. "Did I hurt your feelings?" 

"Yeah, you kinda did." 

"Ladies, ladies, you're both pretty." Finnick jokes. "Besides, the main musical number's about to come up in the movie. Let me enjoy it." 

Nick and Duke both consider this fair. Duke pulls the blanket over his face and grumbles, "Yea, but I'm prettier." 

"Sorry, Duke. Nick's better in drag."

"Told ya." 

"Shuddup." 

 

 

**2**

Her name is Octavia Otterton, and even Duke will admit that her voice is lovely. 

It matches her appearance— slim figure, form-fitting silver dress and enough diamonds and pearls to buy the three of them a house. The rest of the lounge is dressed in kind. Nick takes this to mean his Hawaiian shirt is avant-garde.

She sings beautifully, while an otter that she has introduced as her husband plays the guitar and a weasel that Duke identifies as his ex taps a set of jazz drums quietly. The combined effect of the three is calming to Nick, and while Duke and Finnick whisper abuse to each other aimed at the drummer, he sips his martini pensively and considers maybe moving into an apartment. Finnick's van _seems_ appealing, sure, but Nick personally prefers having a wet basement armoire drawer for a bed over Finnick's gray faux leather passenger seat with a chunk taken out of it. Besides, give it a week and he'd probably kill 'em. 

"Whatcha thinking 'bout, Nick?" Finnick asks, interrupting his thoughts. 

"We should start a band." 

"Huh?" 

Nick gestures in the trio's general direction. "Three of them. Three of us. We could probably land a couple nice gigs like this. We'd be able to afford stuff." 

Duke, having chugged his seventh Jack-and-coke, leans over the table and slurs a little bit too loudly, "I could be so much of a better drummer." 

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" 

In response, Nick only shrugs. 

"None of us know how to play any instruments." 

Nick shrugs again. "Duke seems into it. Besides, we might get some girls out of the deal. We both know you aren't getting much dressing up in a diaper." 

Finnick chuckles. "You're swimming dangerous waters, Nick." 

They linger a bit after the trio finishes the set, polishing off the last of their drinks, and don't actually leave until Nick writes 'IOU' on the receipt. 

Once that's done, they drive away as fast as they can. 

 

**3**

Gold lettering. 

_Suitopia: By Wilde + Son._

Finnick's hands are dwarfed by the size of the briefcase, big red birthday bow tied extravagantly around it, and for just this once he holds in jokes about Nick's age. 

"Now, you can at least pretend like your dad's dream came true."

(Nick smiles wider than he has in years.)


End file.
